


The Dark of Winter

by airgeer



Series: Far From Home [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgeer/pseuds/airgeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New Directions are an amateur adventuring company that dreams of being heroes. Their dream comes true, but not the way they thought it would.</p><p>Part Three: The remaining members of the New Directions return to the town they grew up in, and learn that you really can't go home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark of Winter

_The thing about the gods, children, is that often people forget that they don’t see the world we do. What seems inconsequential to them may be the most important thing to us._

 

_And they are selfish creatures, the gods. They think nothing of pressing mortals into their service, believing that it is their due as payment for the magic they supply and their right as gods._

 

_When the Goddess of the Weave was murdered, their pantheon was thrown into disarray. If the most powerful among them could die, could not they all? Where before they had taken mortal shapes and walked the physical world as the whim took them, they withdrew, taking much of their magic with them. Clerics raised their voices in prayers for life over the bodies of dead children, and the gods did not answer._

 

_So much knowledge was lost in the Spellplague, so many people, and the gods had limited their intervention in the world out of fear for their own lives. The dead stayed dead, and the forces behind the murderers of the Goddess gained power and influence, and so it was for over a century._

 

_And then all at once, everything changed._

 

~*~

 

Puck leaned heavily on Mike. His ribs burned, and his breath came shorter with every step they took towards the burned out gates of Lilsholm. Still smoldering fires sent smoke up into the air, more than a month after the town had been destroyed.

 

Everything was gone. Wooden structures were merely piles of ash, and even stone buildings had melted patches in unnatural patterns, as if they had all been systematically lathed in an unnaturally hot fire. Puck reached deep within himself, trying to grasp onto any trace of his anger, but it had been obliterated by a crippling grief. It was all he could do to keep his breathing relatively even to protect his ribs from the agony that breaking down into tears would bring.

 

 _Badasses don't cry, anyway_ , he told himself sternly. Mike stumbled over something buried in the snow in the same instant, and Puck had to bite back a howl of pain as he was jostled.

 

Mike didn't apologize, and when Puck looked at him his face was pale underneath the red from the cold. Puck slowly looked down at what they had tripped over, but could only see snow covered fabric. Tina knelt to brush snow off of it, the dread of what they would find palpable in the air.

 

It was a person. Someone dressed in unfamiliar armour, lying facedown in the windswept snow. The snow had built up slightly over the corpse, creating a lump in the otherwise apparently flat layer of snow just outside the gates. Puck forced himself to look away, his ribs screaming in protest as his breathing quickened.

 

The sun was sinking, casting the forest, field and ruins of Lilsholm into relief. The field of snow was not flat, Puck realized in horror. It was covered in piles of snow similar to the one that covered the unfamiliar body, and it was very possible that each one masked the corpse of someone from Lilsholm. Whether they had been running, or fighting, it looked like nearly half a hundred people had died outside the gates.

 

Puck felt faint and dizzy, and barely registered his eyes sliding shut, a loud buzzing in his ears. He was on his knees, Mike steadying him on one side and Lauren on the other. He automatically sought out Quinn, standing with Brittany and holding Santana up between the two of them, but looking at him with concern. He wanted to say something, reassure her, but his tongue felt thick and unwieldy in his throat.

 

He gently cleared his throat and tried again, but all that came out was a dull moan. Lauren snapped her fingers in front of his nose, and he looked up at her, forcing his spine straighter so they were on the same level.

 

“How bad is it?” she asked. “Can you get up? We’re going to find some shelter, but it’ll be slow going if you can’t support yourself at all.”

 

Puck swallowed, and the lump in his throat finally subsided, the world around him looking solid again. “I can walk,” he muttered, his voice weaker than he wanted it to be. He dragged a foot out from underneath himself and let Mike and Lauren slowly help him up.

 

They started out again, slower than before, carefully avoiding the telltale bulges in the snow. They left the frozen corpse that Mike had stumbled over where it lay, none of them willing to disturb it further to make an identification.

 

Passing through the gates was a grotesque parody of a familiar act. Instead of waiting for the gates to swing open and striding through, they limped through the hole where the gates had been, over ground that was uneven with debris. Once they were out from underneath the walls, Puck couldn’t stop staring at the ruins of familiar buildings. It had been awful from outside the gates, but now, standing beside the mostly destroyed main barracks, the reality of the devastation truly struck him. They weren’t going to find any survivors. They were going to be lucky to survive themselves, with their injuries and no cleric.

 

They found shelter on the leeward side of what had been the stoneworking shop. It showed signs of damage from extreme heat, but the structure was still nearly intact, save for roof. Mike helped Puck wrap his cloak around him and pulled off his pack as Lauren lowered him to lean against the wall beside Santana, who had Brittany fretting over her.

 

Santana lolled her head over to glare at him blearily, clutching an arm around her lower midsection. She’d been hit hard, Puck figured, and had probably been limping around with broken ribs, same as he had. He was grateful for the training they’d undergone, her under Sue Sylvester and him and Finn under Beiste. Coping with pain for long periods of time was old hat to all three of them.

 

Finn lowered himself to the ground on Puck’s other side, sweat running down his face. He’d been impressively silent despite the crazy angle his wrist hung at, but Puck couldn’t tell if it was shock or fortitude or grief, or some combination of the three. Rachel had a tight grip on his injured arm, providing support and stability.

 

Quinn stood behind Rachel, and gently detached her grip on Finn’s arm. “I’m the most experienced with injuries when there’s no magical help, let me.” She spoke quietly and gently, like to a spooked animal. It still cut through the heavy hanging silence like a knife, a sharp reminder of who they had left behind under that pile of rocks, and only the second time any of them had spoken since stepping through the portal.

 

Puck realized that he was shivering, every tiny jolt sending pain shooting through his abdomen. Quinn looked at him in concern, and he clenched his jaw together, willing the tremors to stop. Rachel was also looking at him, her eyes wide and the grief behind them palpable before she steeled herself and looked over at the others.

 

“Artie, Tina,” she said suddenly. “Will you come with me further into town? This isn’t going to enough shelter, there must be something still standing that will keep us warm enough for the night.”

 

Artie and Tina both looked at her, resignation clear in their expressions. Puck pulled his cloak a little tighter and waited for the sense of the request to penetrate the grief that was crippling all of them. After a moment, Tina nodded, rising and kissing Mike on the top of his head, while Artie simply rolled over to Rachel and pulled his pack off the back of his chair.

 

“I’ll leave you guys a fire,” Artie offered, “I know that, given the circumstances, a fire is the last thing Lilsholm needs, but it might take a while for us to get back and it’s only going to get colder.”

 

“Not much to burn,” Puck couldn’t help but point out. Artie was rummaging through his pack already, and dug out a large chunk of wood.

 

“My,” Artie paused and swallowed visibly. “My mom helped me enchant this during the summer. It’s not going to be warm enough, not with this wind, but it’ll be something.” He spoke a quick incantation, and the wood erupted into flame. He passed it to Tina, who set it on the ground near Puck’s feet. The warmth was faint, but comforting.

 

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Rachel said. “Don’t worry.” The three of them set off down the street, dodging around collapsed buildings and other debris, their footsteps crunching in the snow.

 

Puck watched them go, but his attention was jerked away when Finn let out a tiny keening whine of pain. Quinn was poking gently at his wrist with a frown of concentration on her face. She shrugged her pack off her shoulders and dug through it with her free hand, pulling out a small bag that opened to reveal bandages and other medical supplies.

 

“This is going to hurt, sorry,” she said. “Try to hold still.” Lauren stepped forward to assist, gently grasping and straightening Finn’s fingers. Quinn pulled several short metal splints from the bag and held a cloth up to Finn’s mouth. “You should bite down on this.” Finn obeyed hesitantly, pulling the cloth between his teeth and biting down. Quinn looked up at Finn and gave him a sweet, sad smile that looked like it was meant to be reassuring, but if the way Finn tensed up beside Puck was any indication, it didn’t help.

 

Finn screamed in pain when Lauren and Quinn began to slowly but inexorably realign his wrist. It was partially muffled by the cloth, and by the time Lauren was holding the bones in place to keep them from shifting back and Quinn was carefully but speedily making a splint Finn’s head was tipped back against the wall and the screams had died down to pained whimpers. Quinn fashioned a sling to hold his arm to his chest, and gently tucked his cloak around him. She had the same tender look on her face that Puck remembered from just after Beth was born, but it didn’t stir the same feelings in him as it once had, and it quickly dropped off her face when a gust of wind whistled around the side of the building.

 

Quinn coughed quietly. “Which of you is next?” she asked.

 

~*~

 

Rachel led Artie and Tina through the streets, clutching her cloak around her with one hand and keeping her other ready to grab Mercedes’ mace in case of a threat. She’d learned the lesson that what seemed to be an empty place wouldn’t always be empty, that letting down your guard could be the same as condemning people to death.

 

Her dads were dead, probably. That first fireball had hit near the inn, and the corpses in the field outside the gates suggested that there hadn’t been anyone left to bury them. Her dads wouldn’t have run, anyway. They would’ve tried to save as many people as they could from the fires, been the heroes that she’d known they were growing up whether they’d done something as small as kiss a scraped knee better or something as big as standing up for an accused thief who’d been proven to be innocent. They were the heroes. What was she? She’d trusted Sorin so easily, had helped her to achieve her goals. She’d told her where Kurt was, and then Sorin had used him to kill, to burn the town and the people in it.

 

Rachel shuddered. Kurt had looked so hopelessly  _relieved_  in those horrible seconds before he’d brought the rocks down on himself and Sorin, like death was something he’d desperately wanted. And then Mercedes... Rachel’s lip trembled and she looked down at the ground to center herself. Mercedes had been a hero, had saved them all. Sandy would have killed them, and easily, if she hadn’t taken away his magic. And she had died for it. It went against everything that Rachel knew about heroes. They weren’t supposed to die in their moment of triumph. They just weren’t.

 

“Rachel?” Artie said from behind her, his tone of voice suggesting that he’d repeated himself several times already. “I don’t like this.”

 

She stopped. “What? What’s wrong?” She had dismissed Kurt’s concerns in that labyrinth, explained away her own, and it had nearly killed them all. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

 

“There are no bodies,” Artie stated quickly, like he was rushing to get the words out before his brain caught up with his mouth and realized that he was referring to the burned corpses of his family, friends and neighbours. “There should be, if there were enough survivors to bury the people who died in town, they wouldn’t have left the people who died outside of town. It doesn’t make sense. There should be bodies,” he finished, a bit weakly.

 

Rachel looked into the wreckage of a nearby building. A large bloodstain trailed down a wall, clearly marking that someone  _had_ died there, but there was no body, nor any trace of one. She furrowed her brow. “Yes. Um, yes. There should be.” She was usually much more eloquent, but the events of the day were catching up to her.  _It’s not safe, it’s not safe yet. You have to wait_ , she scolded herself when tears of stress and exhaustion began to well up. “What should we do?” she asked. Artie and Tina looked as confused and exhausted as she felt, and Rachel felt her heart sinking. She tried to wipe away a tear surreptitiously by laying a hand on her cheek, but from the way they were looking at her, she failed at that. Artie’s eyes were wet with tears as well, and Tina wasn’t far behind them.

 

“The temple,” Tina suggested after a minute. “Mercedes, um, Mercedes...” she trailed off into a quiet sob, covering her face.

 

The five of them had been the backbone of New Directions since Will had first brought it up at one of their classes. Mercedes, Tina, Artie and Kurt had stood behind her even when they’d obviously wanted to throttle her, and they’d been each others’ first real friends. They’d looked to her for leadership, and she’d led them right into a trap. If Kurt was here, he’d be covering up his grief with sharp words, but he’d say them with an arm around Tina or Mercedes and no real bite to his voice. If Mercedes was here, she’d be devastated, but push it down to focus on the immediate danger and they would all be safe by now.

 

Tina inhaled with a hurt sounding whimper, and Rachel was moving before she knew it, stepping close to her and offering her arms for a hug. Mercedes would have already had her all wrapped up, but Kurt would have needed a few more seconds before he offered, so Rachel thought that somewhere in between would be acceptable. She needed the hug as well.

 

Tina stepped in and opened her arms, leaning them towards Artie to include him. It was reminiscent of the group hugs Will had always had them do after an argument in the early days of New Directions, but lacking in a way that hit Rachel like a punch in the chest. She pulled back before she could start sobbing, furiously digging her fingers into her palms and trying to control herself. They were  _dead_ , dead and gone, and they’d never reluctantly participate in a group hug with her again, never fight alongside her, reach greatness with her, and she had to turn to cover the sudden, desperate hurt that bubbled up to join the grief that choked her.

 

“The temple,” she said, her voice raspy and uncontrolled. “Will it be there? Why would it be?”

 

Tina sniffed, tilting her head to the darkening sky. “Protective magic. Lots of it. The gods protect their places of worship. There should be something left of it, if there’s something left of anything.”

 

Artie nodded his agreement, wiping away tears. “Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “That sounds reasonable.”

 

They set off again. Rachel squeezed at the bridge of her nose, trying to keep control. They were losing the light quickly, and they set a harder pace than they had before, now that they had a destination. The temple wasn’t far, but they had to pass by the ruins of the town square to get there. Burned out wagons from the trading caravan, ash except for the metal parts, jutted out of the snow, but there was still no trace of the people that had surely died there.

 

The temple still had a roof, mostly, which would have surprised Rachel if it weren’t for her emotions being overridden by a strong desire to just curl up in a corner and let everything come. She pushed the door open, and it was calm and quiet inside, sheltered.

 

The sun was dipping below the walls. “Let’s go get the others,” she suggested. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

 

~*~

 

Quinn had finished with Puck and Santana by the time that Rachel’s group came back. Puck’s ribs were cracked, but in place, fortunately, and Santana’s were the same. All she could do to help was wrap them to give some support.

 

“The temple is mostly intact,” Artie reported, “We’d be safe there, and warmer.” The light was fading fast, but Quinn thought that he looked red-eyed, like he’d been crying. It wasn’t really surprising. Quinn felt an enormous pit of grief inside of her when she thought of Mercedes, who she had been so close to in the last of her pregnancy, or Kurt, who had been a good friend to her, despite everything. Mixed in was guilt at her gratitude that Beth had not been in Lilsholm when it had been destroyed, and an odd longing for her mother and older sister, who were undoubtedly dead now.

 

She offered a hand to Santana, helping Brittany to pick her off the ground, while Finn picked himself up shakily and cast an arm around Rachel for balance when she sidled up to him. Lauren helped Puck up carefully, and their pathetic looking group set off.

 

Traveling through town was horrific, an overload of devastation. Familiar structures were simply gone, others were unrecognizable save for their location. The dimming light made it better and worse at the same time. Better because less detail was visible, yet worse because of the ominous shadows cast. It was like nothing Quinn had ever experienced.

 

She noticed the complete absence of bodies about midway to the temple, and a niggling confusion pushed its way to the front of her brain and stayed there. It could mean lots of things, it wasn’t necessarily a danger. Enough seemingly innocuous situations had ended in death in the last month though that Quinn wasn’t dismissing anything. She turned it over in her head, considering every possible option through her fog of exhaustion and keeping her line of sight mobile to look for possible threats.

 

The sunlight was gone by the time they reached the temple, the moon casting its light down through the crisp, clear night. The screams started all around them just as Lauren pushed open the double doors.

 

~*~

 

_then_

 

Someone was screaming.

 

He blinked his eyes open, but all he could see was a blurry brown surface that his face was pressed into. His throat hurt.

 

His throat hurt because he was the one screaming. He stopped.

 

“Finally. I honestly think you’re going to break him one of these times, Sorin. Humans aren’t made for this kind of punishment.” The woman’s voice was lilting, high-pitched. He knew her. He had heard her voice many times.

 

“Sister, don’t pretend you didn’t find it just as amusing as I did. You may not have ever had to personally deal with this one’s parents, but they threw everything into jeopardy for the both of us. You know they’re watching from the afterlife and begging me to stop.” Sorin. He would have shuddered, but he was too weak for even involuntary muscle movements. Even trying to tense his muscles sent an aching pain jolting through him, but he couldn’t remember what had happened to get him in that state. He couldn’t remember much of anything.

 

“It’s time I went, anyway, I’ve spent far too long with you already. You’ll wake them tomorrow? We will need them to have working minds when the time comes, after all.” The other woman spoke with a dry humour in her voice that was effective at masking orders as requests. “They’ve already been unconscious too long,” she continued. “I know it’s convenient, and there truly are too many of them to reliably control otherwise, but any longer and they will surely be damaged. I’m sure that you will have little difficulty once they are awake. They are, after all, still just children, and human to boot. I imagine that they will be terrified into obedience.”

 

“As you say, Ylidihe,” Sorin said. He tried to lift his head from the dirt, he didn’t want to have his face covered in dirt and he knew that when Ylidihe left Sorin was going to pay attention to him again and he wanted to see her coming rather than just wait for the inevitable.

 

The sound of light footsteps moving away and his own inability to lift his head forced him to accept defeat in his efforts to move, and a great whooshing sound filled the air for a moment, so loud that he couldn’t tell if it was the roaring in his ears or from an outside source. Before it had receded, he was rolled over onto his back. The light stung his eyes, giving Sorin a halo as she stood above him.

 

“Oh Kurt, you poor little thing,” she cooed, crouching down over him. He tried to flinch away, tried to squirm, but something was lost in the connections between his brain and his muscles, and he stayed still and limp as she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, establishing the connection that made control so much easier for her. “You look so sad all the time. I can’t really blame you, but it is rather a downer. What would make you happy? Do you want to see your friends? Grunt pathetically once for yes, twice for no.”

 

“...Esss,” He forced out. He did want to see them. He desperately wanted to see them, even though they wouldn’t want to be his friends anymore.

 

“How about your daddy? Do you want to see him? I bet he misses you. Do you miss him, baby?” She stroked her thumb along the side of his neck, pressing hard enough that it hurt. “Do you remember why you can’t see him, why your friends can’t talk to you anymore? Do you remember what you did? Think really hard.”

 

He remembered. Fire and blood and screaming and a roaring in his ears that never stopped and a scent that still clung to his nostrils. And something else, something big and important, that Sorin didn’t want him to know but he did, but she couldn’t know that he knew.

 

“You do remember?” She sounded surprised. “Well then, good job Kurt, you did really well at holding your mind together this time. I’m not going to pretend I’m not doing this for my own amusement, but it is interesting to see how you respond to repeated psychic attacks. I’m just going to stir things around in there a little bit though, okay? I’m going to put you in with your friends for a while, and I can’t have you spreading stories.”

 

Her grip on his neck tightened and then went lax again, and then his memories were disappearing and shifting. He couldn’t tell what was what, and he was so confused. There had been a fire, but where had it been? What was he supposed to remember? Why was he so afraid? There was nothing to be afraid of. No, he should be. This wasn’t okay, why couldn’t be  _think_ , it was all wrong.

 

He let out an involuntary whine, trying to roll out of her firm grip on his neck. “No, bad,” she said firmly, tightening her grip to the point of discomfort. “Your mind wants to go away now. You’re going to blink your eyes, and then you won’t come back until I tell you to.”

 

He blinked.

 

~*~

 

Goblins streamed out of their hiding places, screaming warcrys. Tina dropped her pack and drew her sword, spinning to face them as Lauren put Puck’s weight fully on Mike and swiped at the empty air behind her head. “Fuck, my hammer,” she swore. She’d lost it in the rockfall, Tina remembered. Lauren grabbed for Puck’s axe instead. “I’m borrowing your axe, Puckerman. Mike, get him inside if it’s safe.”

 

Brittany was half-carrying Santana through the doors already, pulling off her bow and quiver as she went. Artie was casting a spell already, and Rachel had Mercedes’ mace in hand. Finn stepped forward, wrapping his free arm around Puck and supporting him. Mike came to stand beside Tina, sword drawn and shield ready, as they backed into a defensive formation. They couldn’t run, not with their injured teammates. They had to fight.

 

They were badly outnumbered and exhausted, but they weren’t going down easily. “Quinn, Santana’s arrows,” Brittany said, dropping them beside her. The goblins were amassing, but not attacking. Tina stole a quick glance backwards to see Brittany pulling out two long daggers. One of them had been Kurt’s, and the other must have been in her pack. Her swords were gone. They’d lost a lot of weapons in that fortress, but then, they’d also lost a lot of people to use them.

 

Tina jerked her thoughts away from bloody stab wounds and falling rock as they threatened to distract her from the immediate danger of being surrounded by bloodthirsty goblins. They may have only the height of a ten-year-old child, but they more than made up for it with unnatural strength and viciousness. She made eye contact with one of them, the whites of its eyes gleaming in the dim light. It snarled at Tina, showing jagged teeth. To hide her revulsion and avoid giving it the satisfaction of a response, she schooled her expression into the calm contemptuous stare she’d mastered after much practice.

 

The creature growled again and charged rather than continue to pose threateningly. Tina smoothly parried his clumsy thrust and flicked her sword up at its face, digging deep into its fleshy green cheek. Blood spurted and the goblin stumbled back screaming. The rest of them took it as their signal to attack, swarming in close and trying to overwhelm them.

 

Already exhausted, it was all they could to defend themselves and the temple doors. Tina dimly registered Finn returning from leaving Puck just inside the temple. With his ribs, he would be a hindrance rather than help in battle, and Santana couldn’t possibly draw her bow. Finn’s broken arm was his left one though, and though he wouldn’t be able to use his sword with only one hand, he would be able to use a one-handed weapon.

 

Rachel came to the same conclusion. “Finn!” she called, smashing Mercedes’ mace into a goblin’s face when it came too close. “Take this, I’ll use magic!” She danced backwards and offered it to him hilt first, allowing Brittany to gracefully fill the gap she left in their defensive circle. Artie had slid into the role that Kurt usually filled, casting spells that wouldn’t kill many on the first hit, but would hit as many targets as possible and slow their advances instead of his usual deadly and precise shots. Quinn fired arrows quickly, but aimed carefully each time to ensure that it wouldn’t be wasted. Her shots flew true, each one sinking deep into the chest or gut of a goblin.

 

Finn took the mace and stepped in beside Lauren, using the too-short mace clumsily but effectively. Rachel raised her voice in song, and Tina felt warmth, confidence and energy wash over her within instants. She attacked with renewed vigour, knowing that the feeling wouldn’t last forever and there were enough goblins that it was a wonder they hadn’t yet been overwhelmed.

 

She struck a goblin on the neck with the flat of her blade, stunning it, then twisted her wrist and slashed the cutting edge along its throat, opening a long gash. It dropped, screaming in pain, and Tina turned just in time to parry another goblin’s swing. A growl from behind was her only warning, and Tina spun about, sword raised defensively, only to see the goblin that had been about to strike her from behind drop its axe and fall to its knees, an arrow buried deep in its chest courtesy of Quinn.

 

They were holding their own, but they would soon be overwhelmed, Tina knew. Her sword felt impossibly heavy, and her muscles screamed in exertion. She couldn’t go on much longer. Even Lauren was slowing down, and their obvious exhaustion was spurring the goblins on. She sucked in a quick breath and stabbed out at a goblin that had already been singed by one of Artie’s attacks. She misjudged the distance and stumbled, gasping in sudden panic.

 

Mike’s strong hand wrapped around her upper arm, tugging her back roughly and deflecting the goblin’s counterattack with his shield. He’d had to drop his sword to help her, and as he bent at the knees and sprung back up with his sword in hand, Tina defended them both against the goblins’ attacks.

 

There was a clatter in the dim light, out of Tina’s range of vision, and then an unexpected explosion in a crowd of goblins that tore several of them apart, stunned others and rocked her already unsteady stance. A shadowed figure was upon the goblins immediately after, a sword catching the light. Tina desperately blinked to get the spots out of her eyes, but she hadn’t needed to rush. The goblins broke and ran under the surprise assault, not willing to confront an opponent who wasn’t already exhausted and wounded.

 

Quinn’s bow gave a telltale creak behind Tina as she drew it to aim and arrow at the figure as it approached them. A human male, Tina thought, judging purely from the build. His facial features became visible as he got closer, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.  _It can’t be, it can’t..._

 

“Burt?” Rachel whispered from somewhere behind her, her tone incredulous.

 

“Hello, kids,” Burt Hummel said, shaking blood off his sword. “What in hell are you doing here?”

 

~*~

 

_then_

 

He followed Sorin out of the smithy and up into the house behind it. A gentle pressure on his mind urged him to be as quiet as possible, to not ruin the surprise. It was going to be such a good surprise. He was very happy to be included in it.

 

The front door didn’t creak, never had. Sorin opened it for him, and he led her into the kitchen at her silent urging, pulling out his best knife, the one that he kept carefully sharp for when he needed perfect cuts. She smiled at him when he showed it to her, pulling off her glove and laying her heavy hand on the bare skin at the back of his neck.

 

 _Call him_ , Sorin said, stroking her thumb over his hair.  _Do it_.

 

“Dad?” he called obediently. “Dad, where are you?” There was no reply, and Sorin steered him toward the stairs, following him up and not relinquishing her grip. Dad was probably in bed, he was always so tired these days. He opened the door to his room and snapped a tiny flame to the wick of a candle.

 

He stood silently to the side of the doorway, allowing Sorin in. He was supposed to stay there, so he did. Sorin crossed to the bed and shook Dad’s shoulder. “Burt, Burt, wake up. Kurt and I have a surprise for you.” Her voice was friendly and gentle, and made him smile to hear it. He readjusted his grip on his knife carefully, not wanting to drop it.

 

Dad rolled over slowly, blinking his eyes open, but sat bolt upright when he saw Sorin, eyes suddenly wide and mouth open in shock. “Hello, Burt, long time no see. Kurt’s grown into a very well-mannered boy. Obedient, quiet, just the way I like them. My compliments to you and Elizabeth.” Sorin was smiling, he could hear the smile in her voice even if he couldn’t see her face. He preened silently under the praise. She was so wonderful.

 

“Kurt?” Dad was talking to him, but he was supposed to be quiet and stand there, Sorin didn’t want him to talk. She liked it when he was quiet, so he was quiet. “Kurt, I need you to run, please, you have to run now.”

 

“It’s a little late for that, Burt, sorry. I’ve had a presence in his brain since he was a baby, he’s very well-adjusted to me being in there now. How do you think I found this place?” Dad looked up at her, looking angry for some reason. He shouldn’t be angry. “I’ve known you all were here for eight years, ever since he started using the magic I gave him. I’ve just been waiting for the right time.”

 

Dad was edging to the far side of the bed, away from her. “There is no right time for you, Sorin. You’re fighting against a god, and you won’t win.”

 

“A dead god, Burt, she’s been dead for over a hundred years, and she’s impotent, powerless to help you. You received no warning from her that I was coming, and there is nothing to protect you now. I could order your son to stab himself, and he would do it. I could kill the rest of those kids too, and then all her scheming and your careful plans would be for nothing, all that trouble to make destined heroes worthless.”

 

Dad looked over at him, looking very upset, and he smiled reassuringly. He wasn’t worried that Dad and Sorin would be mad at each other. Friends argued sometimes, and it was an interesting conversation, even if he didn’t understand all of it.

 

Sorin wanted him beside her. He went, excited to be included. The world blurred for an instant though, and then Dad had a sword, why did Dad have a sword? He was confused. Was Dad mad at him? Sorin’s reassuring hand rested carefully on his neck, and he realized that it wasn’t his dad, that something had happened to his real dad and it was an imposter pretending to be him and he had to get rid of it.

 

An ice spell would make it drop its sword, and then he could kill it. He was casting the spell quickly when the imposter charged. Sorin helped him, pummelling the creature with a psychic blast that staggered it. He cast his spell, freezing its arm and making its sword useless.

 

“Kurt, I’m your dad, this isn’t you, c’mon, kid,” the creature gritted out through its teeth, clenched in pain. He felt a surge of anger that it would play the charade so far, try to play with his mind like that. Sorin urged him forward, and he dug his knife into its chest in a sharp, vicious movement.

 

He held the knife there for a moment, he couldn’t let go, Sorin wanted him to hold onto it. His hand was covered in blood instantly, and at Sorin’s instructions, he jerked the knife out of its chest, slitting its throat in a single smooth motion and stabbing it in the chest again just below the first entry point. Blood poured out of the first wound and the gash across its throat, covering his arm, and he felt triumphant. He had done it, he had killed the imposter, now his dad would be safe, and get better, and everything would be okay.

 

The thing that looked like his dad stared at him, its sword clattering to the ground. Its mouth moved, but no words came out. It fell to its knees on the floor, and he had to follow it down or lose his grip on the knife.

 

He blinked.

 

 _Kurt_ blinked, and then it was like a fog had lifted off his head, and he was on his knees on the floor staring at his  _father_  it had always been Dad, he had hurt him how could he have done that there was still blood pouring over his hand but he couldn’t let go of the knife.

 

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t hear anything save for a tiny whispering voice in his head.  _You did this._

 

 _No. No, I didn’t know, I didn’t want to, please make it stop_.

 

_You did, and you were pleased with yourself. What a natural born killer. Can you see the light fading from your daddy’s eyes? He’s so disappointed in you, baby, he really thought that you weren’t a monster._

 

 _I’m not, I’m_ not _, please let me go, let me help him, please_.

 

_It’s too late already, Kurt, dead is dead. Doesn’t it hurt? I bet it hurts. I bet you wish the whole thing would just go away. I can make it go away, you just have to let go._

 

Dad sagged forward against him, bending Kurt’s wrist at an awkward angle with the grip he still had the hilt of the knife. He wasn’t breathing anymore. Kurt was covered in blood.

 

 _Dad, Daddy, I’m sorry, please be okay, please don’t, please don’t, I’m_ sorry _, please_   _Dad,_ please _, I need you, I’m scared, I’m scared._

 

There was a new voice in his head, like a tinkling bell, kind and soothing. He couldn’t hear the words, but it reminded him of his mom and then he was floating away. The blood didn’t matter right now. He should just close his eyes, there was nothing he could do against Sorin, nothing he could to stop her yet. She would do what she pleased with his body and mind, but he would survive it. He would be protected.

 

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, Sorin smiled at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go. You and I have a lot to do tonight, and we’re running short on time.” She pulled the body off of him and lifted him to his feet. “Shall we?”

 

~*~

 

“You’re dead.” Finn stated it like it was incontrovertible fact despite the evidence right in front of them, and Rachel tightened the grip she had on his good arm to keep him from stepping forward.

 

“Well, I died,” he said, “It hurt quite a bit actually, I haven’t forgotten, Finn. I was dead, and then a couple hours ago, I woke up. Just in time to not be watching when you all decided to come back here.” His rage was palpable in the air, his tone just barely holding on to calm and restrained.

 

“What’s going on?” Lauren demanded. “How can you be back from the dead? Are you some sort of ghoul?” She hadn’t lowered Puck’s axe, still holding it defensively in front of her when the rest of them had relaxed slightly.

 

“No, I’m one hundred percent alive. Kind of wish I wasn’t, considering the trade-off, but I guess you can’t always get what you want.” His expression softened slightly as he looked at them. “You’re not the ones I’m angry at,” he said, more calmly. “You kids did the best you could with the situation, and you almost got away. What happened to Kurt and Mercedes is not your fault.”

 

“Then whose fault is it?” Rachel hissed, almost surprised at herself at the venom in her tone. “We were all there, we could have saved Mercedes, we could have stopped Kurt before he…he….” Her voice deserted her for a moment.

 

“It’s my fault, at least a little. I thought that I had a little more time than I did to tell you everything, and it backfired,” Burt said. “And it’s Sorin’s fault, certainly, and that monster that killed Mercedes’, and the gods’ fault. It’s not yours. You couldn’t have stopped Kurt, and you couldn’t have saved Mercedes. They both made their choice, even if Kurt was the only one who knew he was making it.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Quinn asked, the frustration in her voice mirroring Rachel’s feelings. “What choice?”

 

“To die, and make sure the rest of you would make it, and that there would be someone waiting for you to explain what’s going on.” Burt’s jaw flexed visibly. “You kids are important. I’ve spent the last two decades trying to keep you safe, and I failed. So, here we are. I’ll explain, I swear I will, but right now, you need to go inside the temple, take care of your injuries. I’m going to make sure those goblins are long gone and then I’ll be back.”

 

Rachel had held her tongue long enough. “How do we know you aren’t just one more thing that’s going to try to kill us? How can we possibly trust you?”

 

“You don’t know,” Burt said simply. “But you’ve got wounded, and you’re obviously exhausted. Could you really stop me if I was your enemy?” He turned on his heel and strode off in the direction the goblins had fled without any further words.

 

Rachel held her ground stubbornly for a few minutes before the onset of night time chill on her sweat soaked hair and clothing forced her to accept that they really wouldn’t be able to do much against Burt if he wasn’t really him. Rachel picked her pack off the ground where she’d dropped it for the fight and turned to the temple door. “He’s right. Let’s go.” Even her voice sounded tired, which could be fatal for a bard. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they had left the wagon on the mountain trail. Had it really only been this morning?

 

She refocused on not falling down the stairs to the dormitories when her knees threatened to give out underneath her, turning out Finn’s bedroll and then her own onto empty mattresses when everyone had crowded into the room. Tina and Mike were helping Puck, and Santana had Brittany and Quinn, so their injured were taken care of. That was good, she told herself. No further injuries, and the ones that they had were non-fatal. Plus, they had an adult now, who knew what to do. They would be okay. Looking at all they had lost though, Rachel couldn’t help but feel like there wasn’t much point to continuing.

 

She shook her head and dug into her pack for new clothes and something to eat. Her dads would be disappointed in her attitude if they could hear her thoughts, and Kurt and Mercedes would have a million lectures if she gave up now. Except Kurt had given up already. He hadn’t needed to cave the tunnel in right above his head, especially after Sorin had started backing away. He had been literally feet from safety, and he’d decided to die rather than keep going. Burt had said he’d made a choice, but Rachel couldn’t see how him choosing to die could possibly help them get out alive of their situation.

 

“Rachel? Are you okay?” Finn asked. She realized that she’d stopped moving with her arm buried deep in her pack, and grabbed the dried fruit she’d been reaching for and lay the packet on the bed beside her.

 

“Just thinking,” she said. “What’s going to happen now?” She toyed with the wrapping on the packet, aware that everyone’s attention was on them.

 

“Don’t know,” Finn said honestly. “Burt’s smart though, and he knows what’s going on. Plus, he used to be an adventurer, a real one. And Sorin’s dead, so we don’t have to worry about people chasing us now, right?” He bit his lip. “But... what Kurt said, right before he, um, he cast that spell, what do you think he meant? We’re supposed to save the world? I don’t understand.”

 

“He knew whatever it is his dad’s going to tell us already,” Lauren said. “He must have known why Sorin targeted us specifically, why she would do all this, all that crap. Or at least he thought he did. Honestly, I still think it’s possible that she was just a crazy asshole who was fucking with us and didn’t think he’d react that way and whatever’s outside is one last trick of hers rather than Burt. I’d almost prefer that to us actually having some kind of obligation to “save the world”. We can’t even protect ourselves.”

 

“You’re prefer it if Kurt and Mercedes and all of our parents died for nothing?” Tina snapped with uncharacteristic venom. “And we’re pretty much done for if that’s not Burt. There’s something bigger than us going on here, even if we don’t know what yet.”

 

 “I know this sounds ridiculous coming from me, but you need to stop arguing right now,” Santana groaned from her prone position on a bunk. “I am feeling some serious pain, and I think I might actually be upset about some of the shit that happened today, go figure, so if we can just  _not_  do this right now, I’d appreciate it. If we die, we die, at this point. Not much we can do.”

 

“I second the being quiet,” Puck mumbled, raising his hand slightly. Lauren shrugged and lay back on her bedroll, gnawing on a strip of dried meat. Rachel’s stomach grumbled at her in reminder, and she unwrapped the dried fruit she was still fiddling with. The rest of the group took their cue to find something to eat as well.

 

They ate in silence for several minutes before the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs. Rachel put a hand on her sword and rose to meet the source. It sounded like a solitary adult human, but by that point she wasn’t feeling very confident at all.  _You’re just tired_ , she told herself.  _You’ll feel better in the morning_.

 

It was Burt, sword now sheathed and shield slung across his back. “Goblins are long gone, and they’ll think twice about coming in a temple even if they do decide to risk coming back. We should be safe here, at least for the night. Any serious injuries?”

 

“Finn’s wrist is broken,” Rachel volunteered, “and Puck and Santana have broken ribs. Quinn took care of them though, we’ll all be okay.”

 

“Good. How much do you kids actually know? I was watching, but I couldn’t see inside your heads. How much have you figured out?”

 

Rachel looked at Lauren, who looked at Quinn. “We don’t know anything,” Quinn said finally. “We know that Sorin wants us alive, but that she didn’t really seem to care that we weren’t all alive when she caught up to us.” She paused for a moment, pursing her lips. “How were you ‘watching’, exactly? Is that how death works? You just watch the living? That sounds awful.”

 

“No, that was just me. People who are actually allowed to die don’t have to stick around. I’d tell you to never get involved with a god, because your service doesn’t end with death, but it’s a little late for that. You’ve been involved with a god since before you were born.”

 

“Uh, what does that even mean?” Finn asked. “What god?”

 

“The Goddess of the Weave.”

 

A chorus of “What?!” in varying volumes and tones. Burt held up a hand and waited until they were quieter to continue. “I’m going to tell you everything, it’s past time I did and if I had earlier, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Just bear with me, okay?”

 

Rachel nodded vigorously, her exhaustion suddenly a sidenote rather than her main focus. Grief still pounded at her, but there was nothing she could do about that.

 

“Okay,” Burt said. “So, Kurt’s mom and I used to be adventurers. We met when we were pretty young and hit it off, splitting out of our respective groups to go it alone. We were small-time, but one night, Elizabeth had a dream. A god had come to her and given her a task, and she was pretty insistent about fulfilling it. We traveled for months, and then, suddenly, everything started to happen all at once.

 

~*~

 

_Seventeen years ago_

 

Burt swung off his horse and tied it the hitching post outside of the inn, rushing to catch up to Elizabeth, who had already reached the doors. She grinned at him over her shoulder, the wide, guileless smile that always reminded him of how much he loved her. Burt caught her up around the waist when he reached her, brushing a kiss against her cheek, dusty from travel, and brushing a hand across her abdomen. It was still too early for her to be showing, but he couldn’t help himself.

 

“You get one drink, and that’s only because we’ll stick out otherwise,” she whispered in his ear. “We have a lot farther to go today.”

 

“Of course, dear,” he said, gently teasing. He got a swat on the arm for it, and Elizabeth stepped out of his grasp and inside.

 

The dining area and bar were nearly empty, the innkeeper swabbing glasses with a (thankfully clean-looking) dishrag, and one hulking figure sitting at the bar. “Really?” Burt couldn’t help but whisper incredulously. “This is where we’ll get the next big clue to this quest?”

 

“No, this is where we stop for a decent meal on our way there. We’re ahead of schedule and my butt was getting sore.”

 

“Oh, is that what’s causing this mood, then?” Burt smirked down at her, and she pouted exaggeratedly and stalked off, greeting the man behind the bar jauntily.

 

“Good day,” Burt said politely to the large figure at the bar while Elizabeth inquired to what they had available for food in the kitchen. The person turned to look at him, revealing a draconian snout and scaled face of a dragonborn.

 

“Good day,” she greeted politely in return. “What brings you to these parts? Not many people traveling in small groups ‘round here.”

 

“Great and noble quest, save the world, yadda yadda yadda. My wife, Elizabeth, she’s in charge of navigation, and sometimes I wonder if we’re having an adventure or a vacation.” Burt downplayed the seriousness of the situation in favour of being friendly. The woman, though young, well, young so far as he could tell, looked like she’d been in a fight or two, and Burt was always ready to have a friendly chat about battles. “I’m Burt Hummel, pleased to meet you.”

 

“Sorin, and likewise. Did you have much trouble on the road?” She gave Burt an appraising look up and down, catching at the sword at his hip and the shield slung across his back. Elizabeth was similarly assessed, the pair of warhammers at her belt earning an impressed nod.

 

“Depends on what part of the road,” Burt joked, “We’ve been traveling for a while. But no, nothing recently. It’s been quiet. Are you from around here?”

 

“Oh my, no,” she laughed. “I’m from a long ways off. I’m here for probably the same reason you are.”

 

“Oh?” Burt challenged, “What’s that?”

 

Elizabeth finished with the innkeeper and he disappeared into the kitchen. “Making new friends already, Burt?”

 

“Don’t I always? Sorin, my wife, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Sorin.”

 

“Pleasure,” Elizabeth said, holding out her hand for Sorin to shake. Sorin’s enormous hand dwarfed his wife’s, making her look childlike in comparison.

 

“Burt and I were just talking about what brought the two of you here. I figured,” she dropped her voice, “that it was Plaguelands you were looking for.”

 

Burt couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “We’re adventurers, Sorin, not crazy people. We aren’t headed for Plaguelands, though we’re going in the general direction.” Burt realized too late that he was calling Sorin a crazy person, and bit his tongue.

 

“I see. Well, please pardon my presumption, I meant no offense.” Sorin smiled easily at them, indicating that no offense was taken on her part either. She gestured to the stool beside her. “Would you two care to join me? I’d offer that we move to a table, but I’m afraid most chairs aren’t sized to me.”

 

Burt slid onto the stool she offered. “Suits me fine. How’s your sore behind, dear?” Elizabeth fairly growled at him as she climbed onto the stool on his other side. “Anything good to eat?”

 

“Not for you if you keep this up,  _dear_ ,” Elizabeth smirked, before leaning forward to address Sorin. “You’re going to the Plaguelands then? Whatever for?”

 

“I’m a bit of a scholar. I’ve been studying it in books and scrolls and the like, and it’s time I saw it in person. It’s mostly the abominations I have an interest in, actually. Have you ever seen one?”

 

“Yes,” said Elizabeth carefully. “It’s not an experience I care to repeat, to be honest. It had wandered out of the Plaguelands and gotten lost. It killed an entire farm’s worth of people before Burt and I put it down.”

 

Sorin nodded sympathetically. “That sort of tragedy is exactly what I’m trying to prevent. If we have a better understanding of abominations, people will know how to fight them, how to escape them. It’ll make life better down the road, and that’s worth the risk.” She spoke sincerely, with no hint of disingenuous motivations. Burt found himself smiling at her, despite his concern about her naiveté. Abominations were dangerous, horrific, and even if they were mindless, the one they had encountered had seemed almost intelligent in its quest to murder.

 

The food came out of the kitchen a minute later, beef and potatoes with fresh bread. It looked delicious, which was surprising, considering the general state of disrepair the town was in.

 

“How far south are you headed?” Sorin asked after a polite minute to allow them to begin eating.

 

Burt sipped at his beer to clear his mouth. “Don’t know yet. ‘s the thing about quests, I guess, never know when you reach the end.”

 

“Might I head with you a way? You’ve had more hands on experience with abominations than me, and if it isn’t too distressing a topic to talk about, I’d like to pick your brain.”

 

Burt looked over at Elizabeth, who shrugged. “I certainly can’t see the harm in it. We’d be happy to have some more company, and a pair of hands if it comes to a fight.”

 

“Excellent!” Sorin beamed at them. “I’ll gather my belongings and be ready to go by the time you’re finished lunch.” She disappeared up the stairs with an agility that belied her bulk, and Burt turned back to his lunch. His grumbling belly demanded his attention far more sharply than studying another woman’s movements while his pregnant wife sat beside him.

 

They traveled south together for several days, until Elizabeth looked at him significantly near sundown on the fourth day. “Let’s make camp here today,” Burt suggested, “I think we’re going to have to split up here, and we might as well do it in the morning.”

 

“Fair enough,” Sorin said, agreeing easily. Too easily, Burt would recognize in retrospect, but at the time, it seemed innocuous enough.

 

They made camp that night, and went their separate ways in the morning. Elizabeth led Burt into a forest, and Sorin continued south. They found the shrine dedicated to the long-dead Goddess of the Weave after a few days of what felt like aimless wandering deeper into the forest, but it became obvious they had been guided when they stepped into the clearing and saw the somehow still intact altar.

 

A figure with a voice like a tinkling bell was in their dreams when they slept that night, whispering instructions and reassurances. She whispered that she was a god, but a dead one, the murdered Goddess of the Weave, her power scattered across the world and her essence trapped in the afterlife. She told them of a plan to regain her power and restore the damaged Weave of magic to its full power, and the role they would play. Fifteen children, each with a tiny seed of her magic growing inside of them. And the task entrusted to Burt and Elizabeth, to find the rest of the children and protect them until they could protect themselves.

 

Elizabeth had a tight, almost desperate grip on Burt’s arms when they awoke the next morning. Protect them from what, from who? Would they be drawing attention to themselves and endangering their own baby if they went riding around the land searching out the parents-to-be and convincing them to go into hiding?

 

In the end, they knew they had to obey. They couldn’t abandon children to those who would harm them, and the destruction of the Plaguelands would save lives. They couldn’t say no.

 

They made the decision of where to hide the children on their way back out of the woods. The small farming community where Burt had been raised, Nander, saw almost no outsiders, and would be relatively safe.

 

Sorin caught up with them on their journey back to civilization, looking disappointed in her findings. “Not a single abomination,” she said. “I went so deep in that I almost didn’t come out without a Spellscar, and I didn’t see a single one. Your quest seems more productive. May I assist?”

 

The roads could be dangerous, and Elizabeth would quickly start to become unwieldy with child. Another hand in a fight could mean the difference between life and death, and it was not a hard choice to make. The three of them set off together.

 

Elizabeth was drawn from place to place, finding the pregnant women they were searching for.  They had found twelve sets of parents and convinced them to head for the Nander in the time they had before Elizabeth could no longer travel. When she couldn’t sit on a horse any longer, she urged Burt on to find the last children without her, pointing him in the right direction and swearing that she would be fine, that Sorin would stay with her until the baby was born.

 

Burt went, and regretted it for the rest of his life.

 

~*~

 

He hadn’t found the last children by the time Elizabeth’s expected delivery date had come, and though he was still stung by his failure when he returned to the inn where he had left Elizabeth and Sorin, he couldn’t miss the birth of their first child.

 

The innkeeper showed Burt to her room after he described who he was looking for, and shut the door behind her quietly. Elizabeth sat at the window holding a tiny, silent bundle to her breast, and did not turn to acknowledge him. The mood in the room was heavy, absent of the light hearted teasing he would have expected after apparently missing the birth. “Elizabeth?” he ventured tentatively. “Are you all right?”

 

“As well as could be expected.” Her tone was flat, and she gently rocked the bundle in her arms. “We’ve been betrayed, Burt.”

 

Burt stopped stock still. “What? By who?”

 

“Sorin. I don’t know what her motivations were, but she’s been working against us all this time. We’re going to have to move the rest of the children, she’ll hurt them.” She sounded detached, calm, but Burt knew his wife well enough that his arm hair was standing on end with dread.

 

“Elizabeth, what did she  _do_?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it betrayed his alarm anyway.

 

“She waited until you were long gone, and then she put me on a horse and rode for the Plaguelands. I couldn’t stop her, Burt, she’s no scholar, she’s a psion. I couldn’t control my own body, I could barely control my mind.” Elizabeth turned her head to look at him, tears running down her cheeks.

 

He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The bundle in his wife’s arms hadn’t stirred, and a terrible dread encompassed his entire being. He had trusted Sorin. Elizabeth had trusted Sorin. She had been playing them the entire time.

 

“Are you alright? Is the baby alright?” he barely breathed it out, but his words carried in the silent room regardless.

 

“He’s alive. I’m sorry, Burt, I couldn’t protect him.” She stood up from her chair and stepped toward him, a heartbroken expression on her face. It was all the cue Burt needed to rush over and wrap her up gently in his arms, pressing his forehead against hers to look down at their child.

 

The baby blinked up at him, eyes half-lidded like it was only just waking up or falling asleep. “I’m sorry I left you, Elizabeth,” Burt whispered. “I shouldn’t have.”

 

Elizabeth pulled at the blanket wrapped around the baby with a shaking hand, baring its back and revealing a tiny blue mark shaped into an intricate pattern. “I went into labour early,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. “He was born inside the Plaguelands. It took me so long to get away from her, Burt, I’m  _sorry_.” She was openly weeping now, and Burt stroked a hand down her shaking back gently.

 

“Oh, gods have mercy,” Burt whispered. “That’s a…” Elizabeth nodded, gasping in a long, shaky breath. Burt looked back up at her. “And you? Are you…?”

 

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I waited until she let her guard down and some of the pain from the birth had disappeared, and then I hit her over the head with her own mace and made a break for it. I could have killed her, but not without risking the baby further.”

 

“You’re amazing,” Burt whispered. “And I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t here.”

 

“I’m so sorry this happened, Burt, and I’m so  _angry_  that I couldn’t see it before. I want to kill her, we’ll all be safer if we do, but I know we don’t have time to hunt her down.”

 

“Shit,” Burt said as he realized the truth of Elizabeth’s earlier words. “She knows where we were sending the parents, and if she’s working against us…”

 

“I know. You think I haven’t been sitting here for the last week begging the gods that you would come back? I only waited because I can’t travel alone with a baby and keep us both safe. I almost didn’t make it back here after I escaped her as it was. Sorin knows she can’t best me in fair combat, regardless of whatever mind powers she has up her sleeve, and that kept her off our backs on the way back here, but it wouldn’t stop bandits or goblins and the like.”

 

“Okay,” Burt said, wiping his wet cheeks. When had he started crying? He hadn’t even noticed. “We’ll go to Nander and get the rest of the families. We’ll find a new place, one that’s safe. It’ll be fine, I swear it to you. We’ll deal with this,” he stroked a finger over the baby’s smooth back, marred by the slightly ridged edges of the Spellscar, and tucked the blanket back around it, “the same way we’ve dealt with everything else, okay? Together.”

 

Elizabeth nodded, recovering from her crying fit but a devastating sadness still lingering around her eyes. Burt reached a hand up her back to stroke her hair, and tried to summon up a smile for her, anything to remove that sadness.

 

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll get the rest of the kids, we’ll beat Sorin there and then we can just disappear. And even if our baby isn’t okay, we’re still parents, there’s…” Burt choked on his words when he realized exactly what he was saying. Joy bloomed in his heart despite the situation, and he chuckled slightly, tilting his head to kiss Elizabeth on the side of her mouth. “Oh gods, we  _are_ parents, what did we do to deserve it? It’s a boy, right? What are we going to call him?”

 

They looked a sorry sight, standing in the middle of a room in an inn in an isolated little town with the traces of tears on their cheeks and the sniffles, holding a baby between them who had yet to make a sound but instead watched them curiously.

 

“Before he was born, I was thinking Kurt for a boy?” Elizabeth said quietly after a moment to gather herself. “That would rhyme, it would be cute.”

 

Burt grimaced despite himself, and Elizabeth let a tiny laugh out at his expression. “If you hate it, we don’t have to. I just like the idea.”

 

Burt looked down at the baby instead. “What do you think, little guy? How does Kurt sound to you?” He touched a finger gently to his son’s nose, the baby watching solemnly. “I don’t think he likes it. He’d rather be called Little Stomach instead.” The baby’s face furrowed suddenly, and he made his first sound since Burt had come in the room, a fierce little grunt.

 

Elizabeth snickered and wiped the last of her tears off her cheeks. “I don’t think Little Stomach is the best name for our firstborn son, Burt, and I’m pretty sure he agrees with me.”

 

“Fine then,” Burt sighed exaggeratedly, “Kurt it is.” He touched his fingertip to the baby’s tiny fist, and Kurt instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Hey there, Kurt,” Burt whispered, waggling his finger up and down slowly. “I’m your daddy, and this is your mommy, but you know her already. We’re going to protect you from now on, I promise.”

 

~*~

 

“Elizabeth and I made a break for Nander, where all of you and your parents were. Sorin had lost the element of surprise, and she was not as powerful in those days as she is now. Elizabeth never would have defeated her if she had been. It gave us a chance. She needed to delay to gather her troops, and we had the advantage of being able to go straight there. It wasn’t easy, traveling with a newborn, but we had no choice, and Kurt was a good baby. Uncommonly good, as we learned when we all set off to the North with all of you in tow. Hell is crying babies, kids, keep that in mind.”

 

“I didn’t know what Sorin’s intentions had been back when you guys were born, why she took Kurt and ran straight to the Plaguelands, but I do now. She always did like to talk, and she did a lot of it in the month she had you guys. Kurt wasn’t always in a state to process what she was saying, but we learned a lot through him.”

 

“Sorin’s dead, though,” Artie said tentatively. “Kurt dropped an enormous pile of rocks on her, we were all there, so isn’t she kind of over and done with? And um, I thought the Goddess of the Weave was dead  _and_  gone? I’ve kind of been studying magic most of my life, and I think someone would’ve mentioned that she was still hanging around post-death.

 

“Sorin’s not dead. She made a shield before Kurt dropped the rocks, and got far enough away that she was only knocked unconscious when her shield failed. I was back in my body before the rocks had finished falling, but I assume she’s still alive despite that, she’s proven herself harder to kill than a bugbear. And yes, the Goddess is dead, but in the way that gods die, not the way mortals do. There’s still quite a lot of her around. She can only act every now and then, but when she does, it tends to be important. Or horrific. The thing about gods is that they don’t really think the way that mortals do. She really thought she was doing me a favour when she brought me back.”

 

“What was she doing then?” Lauren asked. “You said you’ve only been back for a couple hours, and that the trade-off wasn’t worth it.” Her eyes were narrow, calculating, and Rachel barely restrained a gasp when she realized what Lauren was about to say, but couldn’t stop herself from interrupting.

 

“That was Kurt’s choice? He  _died_  so you could come back and tell us these things? What kind of good-aligned being would ask someone to do that?” She couldn’t control the indignation in her voice. The Goddess of the Weave was supposed to be  _good_ , to help people. How could she have told Kurt to choose between himself and his own father? And Mercedes had made that choice too, and she hadn’t even known it? That was just... _unfair_.

 

Burt’s face had darkened again, and the glimmer of rage was back in his eyes. “That was one of them, yes. The seeds of magic that I mentioned, that each of you carries. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve grown, attracting bits and pieces of her magic scattered across the world to you. When Mercedes died, there was suddenly a large concentration of the god’s own magic available to her in that in-between place where she’s trapped, and she only needed a little more to raise the dead. So she went to Kurt. And now, here I am.”

 

~*~

 

_then_

 

Dead. Dead dead dead dead.

 

Kurt walked slowly, putting everything he had left into not collapsing. He’d used too much magic, the lack of it inside  _burned_  at him, but all he could see was Mercedes, her hand swaying limply as Lauren carried her body up the gently sloping tunnel.

 

He tightened his arms and ignored the whispering. It had started as soon as Mercedes had fallen limp against him- _justlikedadjustlikedadnostop_ -and he couldn’t tell if it was his thoughts or if someone else was in his head with him. He thought it was him. He hoped it was.

 

He was lagging behind, but that was okay, they’d stopped walking. Kurt stopped too, blinking to clear the spots from his vision, but everything stayed blurry.

 

 _Shhh_ , a voice whispered.  _Shhh, its okay. Do you remember me? I talked to you before._  The voice tinkled in his ears, bell-like but terrifying. He knew what it was now.  _I promised I would take care of you, and I know you think I didn’t, but I got you away, didn’t I? You were supposed to tell them, though, and Sorin wouldn’t let you. It’s not your fault you couldn’t find the words to admit what happened. She’s still in you, a little bit._

 

_Please, I tried, I tried, I was going to tell, I couldn’t, don’t be mad._

 

 _I’m not angry, Kurt, I promise. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?_  It wasn’t a question, even if she phrased it as one. He didn’t try to respond.  _I’ll get her out soon enough, I promise. They need to know though. People are_ dying _, and if Ylidihe gets her way now there will be nothing to stop her. I’m sorry that my brothers and sisters are cowards, but you can fix everything. You can make up for everything you did, I know you feel guilty._

 

 _How?_  He was barely breathing, desperate for the chance.  _Please, how, I’ll do anything._

 

 _Tell them now, I’ll make it so you can,_ the voice demanded.  _You won’t have time to finish, you might not have time to start, but you’ll know what to do. I’ll help you, when the time comes. You’re tired, I can tell, but once you do this, you can go to sleep._

 

Sleep. The word sounded almost foreign to him, but he knew it meant that he could just  _stop_  and everything would be okay. The thought of closing his eyes and just letting his thoughts disappear chased the cold away, he’d been cold for so long. He’d do whatever he could to sleep.

 

 He blinked, and then the world swam into focus. Lauren was standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder. He had lied to her. He would tell her he was sorry for lying, and then he could say everything.

 

He looked down to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself either.”

 

Lauren shook her head, not comprehending. “Mercedes told us that you lied about Lilsholm getting burned down. We can talk about this later, right now we have to go.”

 

Kurt bit his lip. “That wasn’t the part I lied about, I-”

 

Lauren was holding him up, her arms around him. His shoulder hurt. There was a pressure at the back of his mind. Sorin was behind him.

 

Sorin was behind him, and he was going to die. And it was going to be the bravest thing he ever did.

 

_They’ll be safe? Everyone? You promise?_

 

 _Yes._ Everyone _. I swear this to you._

 

Just before he brought his hand and the ceiling down, he turned around. They were all staring at him, but they weren’t moving. They would be out of range. He met Lauren’s eye. She looked scared? Upset? Why would she be? He was just making up for what he’d done, and she didn’t like him anyway.

 

He smiled at her, and slammed his palm down onto the ground.

 

It hurt, but it was over quickly.

 

~*~

 

“She told him that if he died, she would have the magic to bring me back, and keep you safe.” Burt’s face twitched. “So he did it. She helped him cast that spell, he never could have done it on his own, the shape he was in, and now he’s dead.”

 

“How can you be standing there and telling us what she wants us to do like we should obey when she did that to Kurt?” Tina demanded, pushing back the urge to cry. “He’s your  _son_ , and she as good as killed him!”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “You think that I’m  _pleased_ to be alive because my son is dead? I would rather have died a hundred times than been forced to watch Kurt kill himself at the behest of a god. If I thought it would bring him back I would’ve fallen on my own sword as soon as I awoke in my body. I serve the Goddess still because the alternative is Sorin or her sister ascending to godhood, and that would be the end of all the happiness in the world. That’s what’s at stake. This is bigger than me.”

 

“We’re supposed to stop this? How?” Finn rubbed at his arm above the splint, squeezing his fingers in through his sleeve.

 

“You’re supposed to find the very center of the Plaguelands, and destroy the heart of the Spellplague. That would free the Goddess’ magic, and bring her back to life.”

 

Lauren was looking at Burt with a cool, calculating look in her eyes. “And the heart of the Spellplague is...?”

 

 “The Goddess was in the form of a mortal avatar when she was murdered, and the tears in the Weave that an immortal dying in the mortal realm caused was what made the Spellplague. The ones who killed her were annihilated in the immediate backlash, and so were many, many others. Her mortal body is still there, and you were born to destroy it.”

 

Santana tossed her head, as dramatically as she could while she was lying on her back, at least. “And how are we supposed to get there? You know that thing that Kurt had all over his back and neck? I don’t really want a matching one.”

 

“That’s the point of the magic she gave you when you were born,” Burt said. “You’re protected from the effects of that corrupted magic. You’re the only people in the world who can find that body without the Plaguelands killing you long before you reached it.”

 

“But Kurt, he-”

 

Burt cut Artie off. “Kurt was just a baby, barely born, and the magic had hardly taken shape. All it could do for him was keep him from dying. It couldn’t prevent the Spellplague absorbing into him. You won’t be turned into abominations. They’ll come after you, but you’ll be able to defend yourself against them. They’re vicious, but they ain’t smart.”

 

“Okay, so say we do this,” Lauren said. “The Plaguelands go away forever, right? Why would Sorin be trying to stop us?”

 

“Because all that magic freed when the heart is destroyed will be looking for a host, and you all already have her magic in you, so it wouldn’t go to you, but instead to the Goddess, who will be there with you. Sorin wants to take you and break you, and then use you to  _retrieve_  the heart, so that her or her sister could destroy it once it was removed from the Plaguelands and take the magic themselves. There’s enough in that body to make anything into a god.”

 

“Why shouldn’t we just leave it then? Go into hiding, not help either of them?”

 

“Sorin won’t give up. She killed everyone within the walls of this town for hiding you, and most of them didn’t even know they were. Everyone you meet throughout your lives could be an enemy. And, if you restore the Goddess, she’ll bring back your parents.”

 

“What?” Tina asked, not sure if she was understanding. “Like, back to life?”

 

“She promised Kurt that everyone would be okay if he cooperated, and she included everyone in Lilsholm in that. You’ve noticed that there are no bodies? She took them for safe-keeping. If you destroy the heart, she’ll bring back everyone who died here.”

 

“The bodies outside the gates, though,” Finn said. “Those ones are still there.”

 

“All of them Sorin’s people. She took heavy losses in the first part of the battle.”

 

“Why did Sorin do it in the first place?” Mike said, speaking up for the first time. “I mean, what was the point? She had us, she had the town in disarray, no one knew to look for us, just...Why?

 

“She’s vindictive,” Burt said. “She takes pleasure in the suffering of others, and so does her sister. And she didn’t want you to have anywhere to run to, should you escape.”

 

“That’s...She killed all these people, our parents, our brothers and sisters, our friends, for nothing. That’s not any kind of reason at all,” Rachel whispered incredulously. “What kind of monster is she?”

 

“A ruthless one. She tortures those at her mercy, and frames it as scholarly interest, kid. I don’t know how she hid her true nature from Elizabeth and me for so long, but she did. She uses her psionic powers to incline people to trust her, and then she lets her natural charm do the rest. She’s a brilliant actor.”

 

“And her sister? What is she like? Why haven’t we seen her?” Quinn asked, running a careful hand over the ridges of her unstrung bow rhythmically.

 

“She’s Ylidihe,” Burt said. “And I hope you don’t see her.”

 

“What? She worse than Sorin? I’m kind of thinking that’s hard.” Tina hadn’t been sure that Puck was paying attention, his eyes nearly closed and his expression never changing as Burt had spoken, but he proved her wrong. Burt was already shaking his head, his expression hard and flat.

 

“She’s worse. She’s a dragon.”

 

~*~

 

_then_

 

When he came back to himself, he was casting a spell at someone who was threatening Sorin. He had to protect her, he couldn’t let them- Why did he have to protect her? She had hurt him, hurt others. He  _hated_  her.

 

That was Finn, Mike, Puck, Lauren, people he’d grown up with, people he knew. He couldn’t do this, he didn’t want to do this. “ _No_ ,” he screamed, or tried to. It was too late to let the spell just fizzle out, the magic had to go somewhere, and he knew he had only seconds before Sorin realized that she had slipped up.

 

It would hurt. He didn’t want to. But he had to. Kurt crushed the spell in his hands, destroying the delicate bonds of magic he’d been shaping. The energy released arced electrically over his hands and up his arms, and he felt his skin sizzle as the magic burned itself out and dissipated as if he was in a dream.

 

A moment later, his mind cleared and the pain hit him. Sorin’s grip on his mind fully dissolved with the last of the magic, and he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think of anything but the pain. He was vaguely aware of being grabbed, of a voice echoing in his ears, and then being dropped again, but he focused on the crystal sharp pain that lanced through him like a sword, clinging to it and hoping that Sorin couldn’t drag him back down to where ever he’d been.

 

He lost his grip for a moment, images flashing through his mind. Blood, fire, a firm hand gripping him body and mind, laughter, horrible laughter. Screams and roaring filling his ears, and the scent of burned flesh sickly strong.

 

And then. An enormous crash, and a face as tall as him inches away, smoke curling up from the nostrils of its elongated snout and a baleful stare in its yellow eyes. Its scales glinted red in the fire and smoke, and its enormous body had crushed a building beneath it when it landed.

 

Kurt blinked, and it was dark suddenly. He reached for the...memories? Were they memories? But they were gone, and all that was left was people, staring at him. And pain. Nausea appeared without warning, but there were warm hands on him, supporting him.

 

His mind was all in a jumble, he couldn’t think. There had been fire, he knew there had been fire and screaming and death. Thoughts niggled at him, telling him that he should  _know_  what was going on, that he needed to get his thoughts in order or they were in trouble.

 

The enormous eyes staring at him flashed through his mind again, carrying with it the memory of how rough the scales had been as it brushed against him and the fear. It couldn’t be real. He hadn’t ever seen a dragon.

 

There was no dragon. He didn’t know how he was so certain, but he knew. There was no dragon. He was imagining it. But...

 

The world blurred back into focus around him. Mercedes was holding onto him. He was fine. There was no dragon. There was no...There had been a fire. The screaming, the deaths, had they been real too?

 

Mercedes would know. He turned his head to see her. She wouldn’t lie, and she would know. “Mercedes? How much of that happened?”

 

It came back to him slowly. That first night in the wagon with Lauren, he said the only thing he still knew, that Lilsholm was gone, that he’d seen them fight and lose against Sorin, and that there had been fire and screams. He left out that he knew he’d been the source of some of them. He couldn’t say it.

 

When he woke up the next morning, his face pressed up against Mercedes’ arm, everything was still jumbled together, except for the blood. He remembered the blood. And then he remembered laughing. And he couldn’t say it.

 

They were supposed to save the world. He’d thought he was being so  _clever_ , that he’d hid what he’d learned from Sorin, but he hadn’t. When he tried to say it, his tongue locked up and his mind skittered away from destiny and into memories of people he knew being shredded by a dragon. She’d known that he’d known and used it as just one more way to hurt him.

 

The last thing he remembered was his dad, and what he’d done to him. What he’d done to so many people. What he could never make up for.

 

And then nothing mattered.

 

~*~

 

“A dragon.”

 

Lauren almost choked on the words. What the hell were they were supposed to do against a fucking  _dragon_?

 

“Yes. An ancient red dragon, who wants to seize the opportunity to become a god. What do you think happened here? You think Kurt and a few of Sorin’s wizard cronies are capable of destruction on this scale? Sorin was losing the battle, and then Ylidihe arrived. All of this destruction, it was all her, and that’s why you have to head south to the Plaguelands. You’ll be safer facing the abominations.”

 

“And what happens after that, when we don’t have the Plaguelands to hide in? An angry dragon eats us?” Santana leveled a glare at Burt, who shook his head.

 

“You have a promise from the Goddess that you’ll all be safe. She’ll protect you, somehow.” Lauren rolled her eyes.

 

“Safe like Kurt and Mercedes are safe? Because I get the feeling that she counts dead as safe. And also, if she’s got enough power to bring you back, what’s stopping her from bringing them back, from bringing our families back too?”

 

“I don’t know,” Burt admitted. “I wish I did, but I don’t. For all I know, she lied to me, and your families are alive and safe somewhere else, and so are Kurt and Mercedes.”

 

“Fine, even if we can rely on the Goddess not ditching us as soon as we give her back her power, what are you going to do while we’re trying to sneak down to the Plaguelands? You’re not talking like you’re coming with us.”

 

“I am coming with you, but not into the Plaguelands. I’d be dead within a week if I did, and it’ll take you longer than that to get to the center. I know a way south that’ll get us to the town where Elizabeth and I first met Sorin, and you’ll have to go by yourselves from there.”

 

“So, we get no choice at all,” Quinn said. “We’re probably still going to die, but now we know  _why_  we’re going to die, and that makes it better?”

 

“We have a choice,” Finn said. “It’s just all our choices  _suck_.”

 

“No. They don’t.” Rachel stood up, her hands clenched into fists. “We can be heroes. Not just play at it. We can be  _real_  heroes, make a difference. That’s what New Directions was all about, and I’m not giving up just because it’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be. It’s not fun. We’ve lost friends, lost our families, but we have a chance to bring them back and help the world at the same time. What kind of choice is that? It’s what we’ve been working for our entire lives,  _hoping_  for. It’s not a choice. It’s our calling. We were born to do this.”

 

“Born to do this or not, Rachel, we’re really bad at this,” Lauren said. Rachel’s face fell slightly, but Lauren heaved a sigh and admitted, “But you’re right. This isn’t a choice at all. We have a chance, and we have to take it.”

 

“I want to make Sorin pay for everything she’s done,” Tina said. “The best way to do that is to make sure she can’t win no matter what. We have to try.” Mike nodded vigorously beside her.

 

Puck raised his hand. “I am all for revenge. Also, I guess I wanted to be an adventurer for a reason, and this is as good a way as any to do it.”

 

“Me too,” Artie said. “If we’re probably going to die, we might as go out with a bang, and I’m getting really good at those.”

 

Brittany smiled. “Santana and I are definitely coming. You won’t make it without us, because we’re awesome.” Quinn nodded, resignation clear on her face. Lauren made a mental note to stick close to Quinn and consider reaching out.

 

Finn was staring at Rachel, his heart in his eyes. “I’m with you,” he said simply.

 

~*~

 

The town was just as dilapidated as it had been two decades ago, from Burt’s description, but there were more people out and about. Tina hung back to let Rachel out first. She swung off the back of the wagon and stretched out, Finn following her. His wrist was still giving him trouble at times, but he’d been able to wield his sword at nearly full capacity for almost a week.

 

Puck jumped down, one hand on his axe to keep it from hitting him in the back of his head, turning to offer Lauren his hand. She gave him a derisive look before simply pulling the warhammer Burt had pulled out of the ruins of his smithy for her off her back, flexing her knees as she hit the ground and slinging it across her back again. She stepped off to clear the back, and Puck followed. Tina caught a flash of a smile playing about Lauren’s lips as she turned her back though.

 

Quinn, Santana and Brittany followed more gracefully, and Tina unlatched the back of the wagon before climbing out to give Artie an easier way down, Mike spotting his drop to make sure he wasn’t jostled out of his chair and swinging the back up so Tina could re-latch it.

 

“That’s Mercedes,” Brittany said suddenly. Santana grabbed her hand and turned her to face her.

 

“Britt, I know you miss her and Kurt, but I promise you that is not- holy fuck that’s Mercedes.”

 

Tina brushed past both of them, breaking into a run that blew her cloak out behind her and kicked up snow, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “Mercedes!  _Mercedes_!”

 

“ _Tina_?!” That was all Mercedes managed to get out before Tina was on her, throwing her arms around her and misjudging how fast she was going, bringing them both down to the ground with a tandem surprised yelp. Mercedes grabbed her face. “Oh gods, we thought you were  _dead_ , or captured, or worse, how are you here?”

 

Tina recognized that she should probably get off, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. “Gods, Mercedes,  _we saw you die_ , what happened?”

 

“Long, long story. Is everyone okay?” Mercedes looked past her, and smiled quickly and broadly. Tina craned her neck around to see the rest of the group in various states of discomposure, and surprised herself when her next inhale turned into a sob. Mercedes looked back to her in an instant, pulling her down into a close hug. “Shh, hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay, don’t be sad.”

 

“ _I watched you die_ ,” she choked out between sobs. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

 

“Mercedes?” an unfamiliar voice said hesitantly. “Um, are you okay?” Tina looked up to see a heavily armoured young man looking back at her, the sun glinting off his blond hair.

 

“I’m fine, Sam,” Mercedes said. “This is the New Directions. New Directions, meet Sam Evans, paladin.”

 

“Oh! Really? Awesome, they seem totally not dead. That’s really good, right? Here, let me give you a hand up.” He offered a hand to Tina, pulling her up and brushing the snow off her cloak before offering the same to Mercedes. “So Blaine asked me to find you and say that we’re just about ready to go, but I guess that’s changed now?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Mercedes looked at the rest of the group in turn, an enormous grin spread across her face. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I really thought we’d never see you guys again.” Her eyes lit on Burt, and the grin slid off her face, her jaw dropping. “Burt.”

 

“Mercedes,” Burt said, a faint smile playing at his lips. He was clearly unprepared for the way Mercedes threw herself at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the sounds of the town square. “Whoa, where are we going?”

 

“Just come on,” she demanded, speeding up to a run. Tina followed quickly after, hoping past hope for another miracle.

 

The market was in full swing, taking advantage of the relative warmth at midday. Mercedes rounded a corner and skidded to a stop on the packed snow. “Kurt! Where are you? Kurt!”

 

Heads turned in their direction, but Tina only noticed one. A cloaked figure standing beside another armoured paladin at a nearby stall whirled about quickly, but relaxed when he couldn’t see a threat. “Right here, you didn’t need to shout, I’m almost done.”

 

Kurt turned back to the merchant, but froze halfway there. Tina felt fresh tears well up, and spared a thought for how bad it was going to hurt to blink when they froze, but it didn’t matter, because it was  _Kurt_ , and  _Mercedes_ , and they had been dead, she’d known they were dead but they were here, and Kurt was turning slowly back and Burt was striding forward through the sparse crowd that melted out of his way.

 

Kurt stood there silently, his mouth moving and his eyes wide and unblinking until they were hidden by Burt engulfing him in a tight hug that picked him up onto his tiptoes. The last thing Tina saw clearly before tears completely blurred her vision was Kurt’s arms coming up to wrap around his father.

 

~*~

 

End of Part Three


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